


trusting you is all i know

by enuniu



Series: Short Stories [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Figurative Language, Introspection, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29659710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enuniu/pseuds/enuniu
Summary: George trusts Dream.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Short Stories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006242
Kudos: 7





	trusting you is all i know

_“Do you trust me?”_

It’s always been those four words. Repeated in a softly whispered tune, rushing along bubbled clouds as the evening dull light paints itself in bruised purples, candied apples colored within dying magentas and solemn strokes of dotted blues. 

They were the push and pull of gravity, invisible entities clashing and swinging bloodied knuckles against an open wound smoothed over in the burns of a pale yellow fire or tiny cracks of cubed ice. They held such a terrible amount of fear, tickled fingertips, frosted and bitten, swarming underneath too-hot silver chest plates, yet—all the same—it was exhilarating. 

Lovely; beautiful. 

Everything George could ever want in between the crevices of his growing nails, coated and grimed in with chunks of brown soot and dried blood. It’s a desperate craving that he wants to swallow whole no matter how large or layered it is. 

And maybe it was wrong. Maybe every step and kick he took wasn’t meant to be hanging off the edge of a balcony, rusted grey rails wobbling from the amount of heavy armor displayed across his chest and knuckles gripped too tight. The heels of his feet barely catch onto the ledge, toes trapped and suffocated inside tailored boots. The crescent moon up high glamour her pretty pearls of shining silvers and orbs of ghostly whites; taunting her beauty for George to just let go.

No one will harm him below. Those horrifying piranhas glittered in sharp, jagged teeth won’t strip, won’t shred any inch of want—of _need_ —from the rhythm of his beating heart because instead they’ll be replaced with that familiar comfort of warmth cornering his own.

Those soft-eyed spheres of lost forests, of flailing loose leaves deprecated from their broken branches, of crusted moss at the bottom of a cold river overwhelmed with families of tiny fluorescent fish and baby tadpoles. Of everything green and home.

A knot in his stomach twists and turns at every braze of wind nipping his exposed skin, tightening that ever living crush of something more. That cursed feeling of staring too long at the distance between George and the hard concrete a few feet below scratched in last minute skidding halts. 

Yet, when his own pale hand reached out to a scarred and leathered one after many lost battles and many won wars, after lonesome nights cradled and coddled underneath a dying blue flame, of the tormenting reminder that the stars did not align along with his own white connected lines, he responded with an agonizing, a broken, breathless—

_“Yes.”_

**Author's Note:**

> There was more to this bit, but I had lost motivation for this idea. So, I wanted to show my very first part which I still think is pretty good!


End file.
